


The Echoes of the Sea

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual Memory Modification, Inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Light Bondage, M/M, Romance, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1860726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco meet unexpectedly in a place which is familiar to them both. The plans they make together following their chance meeting are uprooted when they discover they share a history that neither of them can remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Echoes of the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This submission is part of HD Smoochfest on Livejournal. The theme this year is Media Remix, which invited participants to "remix" the story from a Book, Movie, or Television Show. The author/artist will be revealed at the end of the fest.
> 
> This was created for Prompt Number: M58  
> Original Work Name: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
> 
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Notes: Thank you so much to the prompter for prompting this film, which is one of my favourites. I was delighted to pick this up as a pinch hit and I do hope you enjoy the results. I have altered certain plot components to fit with the magic of the Potterverse and the canon history between Harry and Draco, but I have worked hard to stay faithful to the core story and themes of Eternal Sunshine. I do hope you enjoy the results. For readers who don’t know the film, no familiarity with the source material is required. Thanks so much to the mods for your endless patience with me while I worked to finish this story. Thanks to A for the speedy beta.

From the moment he wakes, Harry knows it’s going to be one of those day when the sun never seems to rise. The first plump raindrops tip tap on the window and with a groan he pulls his duvet over his head.  
  
Eventually he gets up and brushes his teeth. His eyes are framed with dark circles and his head pounds. The scar on his forehead pains him for the first time in years, and when he tries to force a smile he notices small crinkles at the corner of his mouth and a couple of flecks of grey in his hair.  
  
He wonders when he got so old and careworn, and when the healthy flush of pink disappeared from his cheeks.  
  
He rubs his eyes with his hands and blinks. The same face looks back at him from the mirror, which passes comment on his rumpled hair as it has done every morning for the last fifteen years.  
  
He makes himself a cup of tea, and toasts some bread. He curses when he finds he’s run out of butter, and washes down his dry bread with piping hot tea. On his way back upstairs he notices a photograph on the floor, surrounded by broken glass. His younger self smiles back at him and waves, holding a Quidditch trophy aloft. He looks happy. He looks  _free_. He pulls a face back at his picture and turns it face down on the table, casting a glance at his broom in the corner of the room gathering dust.  
  
With a sigh, he trudges upstairs and takes his Auror uniform out of his wardrobe. He retrieves his boots and puts them next to the uniform, at the foot of the bed. He stares at the tailored tunic with its highly polished buttons, and takes a decision.  
  
With a quick burst of energy he scribbles an owl to Kingsley to let him know that he’s coming down with something and won’t be in work for the rest of the week. The response comes back quickly, carried on an official owl, encouraging Harry to rest and get well soon.  
  
Feeling marginally better, Harry puts his uniform back in the wardrobe and pulls on some worn jeans and an oversized green jumper he doesn’t remember buying. He paces restlessly and opens his bedroom window to listen to the rain.  
  
He tries to read, but there’s nothing in the house which appeals and eventually he grabs his cloak and his broom. Casting the necessary spells to keep himself hidden from Muggle view, he kicks off from the ground and takes to the sky.  
  
He flies for hours, letting out a whoop of delight as the rain beats down on his face. He’s taken back to Hogwarts and the thrill of trying to catch the Snitch. He twists through the clouds and dips down over the rooftops, angling his broom up again until he can see the sea through the rain. The water looks nearly black from the sky, and lightning forks over the cresting waves. Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbles, and the water beats against the rocks.  
  
He touches down on a beach and shrinks his broom until it’s small enough to put in his pocket. He holds out his arms and turns his face up to the sky, catching the rainwater on his tongue. His lips taste salty as he swipes his tongue over them, letting the spray from the sea cover his body. He runs to the edge and stands just where the waves hit the shore, the dark rugged rocks of the coastline flanking him on either side while the water laps at his boots.  
  
He looks out further to the place where sea meets sky and imagines walking through the sea of water until he can touch the sky. A particularly large wave startles him from his daydream. He steps back and pulls his cloak around him, following another sole set of footprints along the sandy beach.  


 

* * *

  
  
The footprints stop at a weather-beaten set of steps leading up to a bed and breakfast which is both familiar and not. Harry takes the steps up to the building, careful not to slip on the damp wood which is rotting and splintered. Eventually the winding stairs take him to a grassy expanse, and he moves further from the edge of the cliff battling against the wind and rain. The large house is painted fresh white which gleams invitingly in the darkness, and a round pink sign outside carries the name of the house in elegant black script which curls at the edges.  


 

_**Land’s End Bed & Breakfast** _

  
  
From his vantage point on the cliff top, Harry watches the storm wreak its havoc over the Atlantic Ocean and takes in the constant rotating beam of light from the nearby lighthouse which breaks through the dark skies. He shivers and checks his watch, furrowing his brow when he notices the time. He’s too far from home to Apparate now and he’s too tired to fly all that distance again at this time of night. The thunder claps and another fork of lightning slices through the sky, and he takes his decision.  
  
He walks along the path to the B&B, and pauses at the door. It’s painted bright blue and the large, brass door knocker is heavy and cool to the touch. He lets the brass fall against the door and the sound brings back a memory, buried deep in his mind which blurs around the edges.  
  
The wind whips into a frenzy and he can almost feel a puff of hot breath against his neck, and hear his own voice whisper roughly into the darkness.  
  
 _Meet me at the end of the world._  
  
He shakes himself and the voice disappears. The door opens, bathing Harry in light and he steps out of the cold into the warmth of the cosy house.  


 

* * *

  
  
Harry settles in for the evening, drying off his wet clothes in his room with a couple of charms. He showers and looks in the mirror when he’s finished, smiling at the light flush in his cheeks from flying earlier that day.  
  
He makes his way downstairs to the small bar area and orders a beer. He takes a comfortable seat by the fire, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He takes in the surroundings and his gaze settles on a familiar figure sitting in the corner of the bar reading a book.  
  
“Malfoy,” he murmurs.  
  
Although he’s too far away to hear Harry, Malfoy lifts his head from his book right on cue and meets Harry’s eyes. They sit and watch one another in silence until the moment becomes awkward. Finally, Malfoy closes his book and makes his way to Harry’s table.  
  
“Potter.”  
  
“Malfoy.” Harry studies Malfoy who has definitely improved with age. The last time Harry saw Malfoy in the flesh was after the war, flanked by his mother and father and leaving Hogwarts behind. The  _Prophet_  made much of Malfoy’s wedding day, but from what Harry could gather the marriage had been plagued by problems and struggles to conceive, until eventually Malfoy and his pretty society wife had divorced.  
  
It irritates Harry that Malfoy doesn’t seem to be going grey and his face isn’t lined with the same wrinkles and laughter-lines as Harry’s. His skin is still pale almost to the point of translucency, and his features remain sharp and chiselled. His hair is as white-blond as it ever was and his smooth skin makes Harry begin to regret his hours of gardening with the sun beating down on his skin. Malfoy’s clothes are well-fitted and expensively tailored, showing off his lithe frame in the very best of ways.  
  
Harry gestures to a spare seat, deciding they’re too old now not to at least make an attempt at civility. “Of all the gin joints in all the world…”  
  
Malfoy narrows his eyes and glares at Harry. “Are you making fun of me, Potter?”  
  
“It’s a line from a Muggle film.” Harry waves his hand with a sigh at Malfoy’s confusion. “Forget it. What brings you here, of all places?”  
  
“I’m not really sure.” Malfoy looks around with an air of disdain. “I fancied a change of scenery and for some unknown reason I decided to book something Muggle. Do you know they don’t even have a pillow menu?”  
  
“Why the fuck would you need a  _pillow_  menu?”  
  
“Why  _wouldn’t_  you?” Malfoy looks horrified. He recovers from his shock momentarily and huffs. “The place is clean enough, I suppose. Although the clientele leaves a lot to be desired.”  
  
“Of course it does.” Harry rolls his eyes, refusing to show Malfoy how much he still rankles him. “It’s as good a place as any for a break.” Harry points to the view from the window of the moon hanging low over the stormy seas. “I think it’s brilliant.”  
  
“You would. You probably holiday in Butlins.” Malfoy snorts but follows Harry’s gesture with a flicker of appreciation crossing his features. “How long has it been?”  
  
“Fifteen years,” Harry replies automatically.  
  
“That long?” Malfoy swirls his brandy in a wide glass and takes a careful sip. “From what I read in the  _Prophet_  you’re still trying to save the world.”  
  
“Hardly. It’s all paperwork and politics these days.”  
  
“You never married.” Malfoy states it as a matter of fact rather than asking the question and Harry nods. “Funny, I always thought you would.”  
  
“And you divorced,” Harry notes. “Which I never thought would happen after the way the papers built up your marriage.”  
  
“Bloody papers. I suppose I’m just a confirmed bachelor.” Malfoy’s tone insinuates he knows the intimate details of Harry’s private life. “A bit like you, Potter.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry clenches his hand into a fist and prepares for the worst. “You don’t know anything about me.”  
  
“I know what the  _Prophet_  says about your  _preferences_.” Malfoy’s eyes trace Harry’s face in a way that makes him distinctly uncomfortable. “Not to mention the rumour on the grapevine is you haven’t had a decent shag in months.”  
  
“What  _grapevine_?” Harry glares at Malfoy, his body hot with anger. “You know nothing about me.”  
  
“Calm down, Potter. You’re acting like a man with a lot of built up tension.” Malfoy smirks. “How thrilling it must be for gay wizards everywhere to have a celibate Harry Potter on their side, waving a rainbow flag and demanding equality.”  
  
“Bugger off.” Harry orders another beer and a bowl of salted nuts. He takes a handful and eats them without looking at Malfoy who huffs with aggravation at being ignored. “It’s none of your business who I sleep with.”  
  
“You’re right, I couldn’t care less.” Malfoy’s cheeks flush and Harry arches an eyebrow, wondering why he’s so sheepish all of a sudden.  
  
“Seems to me like you’re very interested in my personal life.”  
  
“I’m not,” Malfoy snaps. “I was only passing comment on how tragic the whole thing is.”  
  
Harry shrugs, because there’s not a lot he can say to that. Other than his disastrous relationship with Ginny and a few odd months here and there, he can’t claim to have had a relationship of any real significance. The thought saddens him and he looks glumly at his drink. “The truth is, I always thought I would get married too.”  
  
“Why didn’t you? Wizards  _can_  do that now.”  
  
“I have no idea.” Harry tries to clear his muddled thoughts. “I honestly don’t know what I’ve been doing for the last ten years. It’s like there’s a big gap where any kind of relationship should have been. I don’t even remember trying to meet someone, which is the saddest thing of all.”  
  
“Really?” A strange expression crosses Malfoy’s face and his brow furrows. “I can’t say things have been all that different for me.”  
  
“At least you had someone for a while.”  
  
“For less than a year before I asked for a divorce.” Malfoy rolls his eyes. “What a success story. You’re quite right, Potter. I should thank my lucky stars.”  
  
Harry chuckles and pushes the bowl of nuts towards Malfoy who eyes them with trepidation. “They’re good.”  
  
“I think I’ll take your word for it.” Malfoy sniffs and picks up the bar menu, turning it idly in his hands. “They do have olives, you know.”  
  
Harry pulls a face and shudders. “No thanks.”  
  
“You’re so peculiar.” Malfoy cocks his head to the side and studies Harry. “I bet you still drink Pumpkin Juice like it’s going out of fashion.”  
  
“I don’t see what’s wrong with Pumpkin Juice. It’s better than drowning my sorrows in Firewhiskey.” Harry settles back in his chair, feeling relaxed and comfortable. “Have you been here before? To Land’s End, I mean.”  
  
“I don’t think so.” Malfoy thinks hard. “Perhaps when I was young. It’s familiar. I suppose you come to places like this all the time?”  
  
“Not really.” Harry shakes his head. “I decided I’d done enough paperwork to last me a lifetime and owled in sick. I’ve got the rest of the week off.”  
  
“You don’t sound like you enjoy it much.”  
  
“I used to like it. I’m not sure anymore.”  
  
Malfoy hums thoughtfully but thankfully doesn’t push Harry further. “It’s a funny sort of name for a place, Land’s End. I was thinking about that earlier.”  
  
“Do you think? It makes perfect sense to me. Sort of does what it says on the tin.”  
  
Malfoy pointedly ignores Harry and continues. “Witches and wizards used to think the earth was flat. There’s all sorts of pictures of boats falling off the edge of the world.”  
  
“Muggles too,” Harry interrupts.  
  
Malfoy snorts. “Muggles probably  _still_  think the world is flat.” He reaches for a nut and examines it, before popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “It’s like that here. Like the end of the world.”  
  
Harry shivers when Malfoy says that, wondering why he thought exactly the same thing only a few hours before. “I suppose it is a bit.”  
  
Malfoy taps his finger along the list of cocktails and finds one which makes his eyes light up. “I’m having another drink. Potter?”  
  
Harry supposes he might as well. “Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.”  


 

* * *

  
  
When he makes his way to breakfast the next morning, Malfoy is already seated reading a paper.  
  
“Muggle papers are dull.” Malfoy pokes at a picture when Harry takes a seat next to him as if he expects it to start moving. “They think about money even more than I do.”  
  
“You’re reading the  _Financial Times_ , it’s supposed to be all about that sort of stuff.” Harry orders a strong black coffee and a full English. “I’d have thought it would be right up your street.”  
  
“Why on earth would I be interested in this? I never invest in Muggle companies and they don’t even mention how the Galleon is doing against the pound. At this rate this sub-standard hotel could be costing me a small fortune.”  
  
“They’re not going to violate the Statute of Secrecy just so you can monitor your investments.” Harry peruses Malfoy after taking a generous bite of his breakfast. “What exactly do you do, anyway?”  
  
“Wealth management.” Malfoy closes the paper with a huff of annoyance and pushes it away as if it offends him. “I invest my own money to generate profit but I also take payment for advising others on suitable investment opportunities, pension funds and tax structuring.”  
  
“Oh.” Harry thinks about his own Galleons gathering dust in Gringotts and frowns. “Do a lot of people think about that stuff?”  
  
“Of course.” Malfoy looks horrified. “You mean to tell me you  _don’t_?”  
  
“Not really.” Harry shrugs. “I’ve got plenty in savings for retirement and my salary is good. Plus there’s Grimmauld Place and my Muggle property in London.”  
  
“Why on earth do you have a Muggle property?”  
  
“Because nothing works in Grimmauld Place. I can’t even watch television.” Harry elaborates after noticing Malfoy’s confusion. “Films, things like that. Besides, Grimmauld Place is far too big for one person. Ron and Hermione live there now, with the kids.”  
  
“I hope they pay you rent.” Malfoy narrows his eyes as if the thought of anyone getting a free ride bothers him.  
  
“A bit. I don’t want the money, but they insisted.”  
  
“Or Granger did at least,” Malfoy mutters. “Weasley’s landed on his feet if he’s living in a Black property.” He glares at Harry. “Which should rightfully have passed to me.”  
  
“Oh bugger off, Malfoy.” Harry focuses on his breakfast before it goes cold. “You sound like you’re doing just fine without it.”  
  
“I am.” Malfoy sounds smug. “As you are clearly so clueless I suppose I could help you out.”  
  
“I’m fine, really.”  
  
Malfoy waves his hand airily. “It’s really no trouble. I hate to think of all of that gold languishing in a vault and never being used.” He frowns at Harry. “Why do you even work if you don’t have to? I don’t exactly get the impression you enjoy your job.”  
  
“I can’t imagine not working.” Harry thinks about Malfoy’s comment, the idea of doing something other than Ministry work appealing to him in a way he doesn’t want to examine too closely. “I’ve always wanted to be an Auror.”  
  
“While there’s work for the Aurors to do, yes.” Malfoy sips his coffee, contemplating Harry. “But you said yourself it’s all paperwork and politics now. Besides, I’m sure if some terrible disaster occurred you would be welcomed back with open arms. You’re quite the Ministry darling.”  
  
Harry thinks about the morning he spent in his flat, restlessly pacing and watching the rain. “I’m not sure I’d enjoy not having something to keep me busy.”  
  
“Then take a year to travel.” Malfoy sounds excited. “See the world. Haven’t you ever wanted to go somewhere hot and feel the sand under your feet? You could go to America, Asia, anywhere you want. Port Key travel has improved enormously over the years and you can fly between places which are close enough together.”  
  
“I couldn’t. I’d be letting everyone down.” The idea of travelling fills Harry with excitement. He thinks of all the pictures he sometimes looks at during a quiet afternoon in the Ministry. He imagines flying over the Statue of Liberty and taking a rickety ferry from one part of Hong Kong to another. He often daydreams about the bright colours of Marrakesh markets, the sandy beaches of Thailand, the crystal clear sea and white houses in Santorini, and the tree-lined Champs-Élysées. His mouth waters as he thinks of it, and he can almost taste the rich coffee served in the Piazza San Marco and hot mugs of sweet Glühwein at German Christmas markets.  
  
“You want to, though.” Malfoy sounds animated and he leans close to Harry, his breath ghosting over Harry’s face. “Whatever happened to that bold Gryffindor spirit, Potter?”  
  
“I don’t think I’d much fancy travelling alone.” Harry frowns, trying to come up with an excuse although his protestations sound limp and unconvincing.  
  
“Then don’t.” Malfoy places down his coffee as if the decision has been taken. “Travel with me.”  
  
Harry’s mouth parts. He wonders how the hell he got from taking a day off work to leaving the Aurors to go travelling with  _Malfoy_  of all people.  
  
“We’d kill each other.”  
  
“Possibly.” Malfoy smirks and taps his finger to his lips as he watches Harry. “Exciting, isn’t it?”  
  
“ _Yes_.” Breathlessness overwhelms Harry and his heart pounds in his chest. Almost giddy with excitement and energy, he tries to curb his impulsive tendencies quite sure that somebody of his age should know better. “When would we go? There’s so much to organise.”  
  
“What a lot of rot. We can go tomorrow after you tell Shacklebolt he’s going to have to do without his Boy Wonder for a while. First stop, New York.” He appraises Harry. “Just pack some decent clothes. As good as green looks on you, I don’t think that jumper is suitable beachwear.”  
  
Harry frowns at the jumper he pulled from his wardrobe and wonders if it was really only a day ago that he was sitting in his flat, longing for something different.  
  
“It’s going to take me hours to fly back. I don’t think I’ll have time to speak to Kingsley that quickly.”  
  
“You  _flew_  here?” Malfoy’s eyes widen and he checks his watch. “Pack your broom. My Port Key leaves in an hour and I can always make a last minute change so we can go to your place first. I suppose if we’re going to travel together I might as well get used to you tagging along.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be  _tagging along_.” Harry lets out a growl of frustration and glares at Malfoy. “This would be my trip just as much as yours.”  
  
“So that’s a yes, I take it?” Malfoy’s smile makes him radiant. “You’re so  _easy_ , Potter.”  
  
The way Malfoy says  _easy_  makes Harry’s cheeks heat.  
  
“I think I’m going to live to regret this.” Harry frowns at Malfoy who looks pleased as punch.  
  
“But if you don’t come, you’ll never know.” Malfoy dabs his mouth delicately with his napkin and stands, putting the  _Times_  under his arm despite his earlier complaints. “I’ll see you in an hour. Don’t be late, the Port Key won’t wait.”  
  
Harry watches Malfoy leave, wondering how he managed to get into this bizarre situation.  
  
Another burst of excitement wells within him and he finishes off his breakfast with a flourish.  
  
“Right, then. Time to pack. What the hell am I doing?”  
  
But nobody answers him, and with a shake of his head, Harry makes his way upstairs taking the steps two at a time.  


 

* * *

  
  
“This isn’t half as bad as I expected it to be.” Malfoy pokes around Harry’s living room, sounding surprised that Harry actually has good taste.  
  
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Harry snorts, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”  
  
“I can.” Malfoy looks pleased with himself and picks up the picture of Harry playing Quidditch, a strange expression crossing his face. “Was this in the  _Prophet_?”  
  
“I don’t think so.” Harry moves closer to study the photo which Malfoy strokes his fingers over slowly.  
  
“Funny. I could have sworn I’d seen it somewhere before.” Malfoy shakes himself and puts the photograph back on the table, face up this time. “Although I’m sure there are ample photos of you showing off in the press.”  
  
“I wasn’t showing off.” Harry tries to push aside the way Malfoy’s proximity affects him, the scent of Malfoy’s cologne filling his senses with a familiarity Harry can’t quite place.  
  
“It looks a lot like showing off to me.” Malfoy trails his fingers over the books Harry carefully organised in his bookcase and stops at one particular title. “I thought you said you know nothing about investments.”  
  
“I don’t,” Harry replies. He glances at the book Malfoy extracts from his selection and frowns. “ _Wizarding Finance and Economics_  - I’ve never read that.”  
  
“Clearly. If you had, you’d be a lot less clueless.” Malfoy flicks through the book and holds up a page to Harry, with sentences highlighted in yellow pen. “Someone’s read it.”  
  
“It must be second hand.” Harry tries to shake the unsettled feeling which has persisted since his visit to Land’s End. “It definitely wasn’t me.”  
  
Malfoy shrugs as if it doesn’t matter anyway. When his eyes meet Harry’s a flash of emotion pulses through Harry’s body. He swallows, not wanting to tear his gaze away when the sound of an owl tapping at the window forces him to do so.  
  
The tension dissipates and Harry opens the window, letting in the owl.  
  
“Post?”  
  
“Not from anyone I recognise.” Harry frowns at the snowy owl currently pecking at his fingers, and takes the package from it carefully before feeding the owl a treat and letting it fly off into the morning.  
  
“It looks like Parkinson’s owl.” Malfoy sounds uncertain and Harry unwraps the package.  
  
“I haven’t seen her since we left Hogwarts. I’m not sure why she would send anything to me.” The parcel opens to reveal a phial filled with silvery memories, with Harry’s name etched on the bottle in careful script. A long roll of parchment sits in the box, tied with an elegant green and silver ribbon.  
  
“What is it?” Impatient, Malfoy moves closer to Harry his warm breath tickling Harry’s ear in a way which is far too distracting for words.  
  
“I don’t bloody know, do I?” Harry opens the parchment and reads the company name etched onto the top of the letter. “Obliviate Limited. For those who want to forget…”  
  
“Forget what?”  
  
“I don’t  _know_ ,” Harry repeats. He fights back a rising sense of discomfort and begins to read.  
  
 _Harry,  
  
I’m sending you this letter because you deserve to know the truth. I have included your memories because if I didn’t you probably wouldn’t believe me.  
  
You came to Obliviate Limited to have your memories erased. Not all of them, of course. Just the ones of Draco, or more accurately the ones of you and Draco. Because there was a you and Draco once, you see and not so very long ago. There’s not much more to say other than it’s all here, in the glass phial included with this package.  
  
It wasn’t a good idea, this business and I’m sorry.  
  
P. Parkinson._  
  
“What is the meaning of this, Potter?” Malfoy’s tone takes on a furious, clipped edge and Harry lets the parchment fall to the floor. “Is this some kind of trick?”  
  
“No, of course it’s not a trick. I don’t know anything about this. I told you, I haven’t seen Parkinson since school.”  
  
“Well clearly she’s seen  _you_.” Malfoy’s voice rises and he reaches out to take the delicate glass phial. “Show me.”  
  
“I don’t know what’s in there, it could be anything…” Harry trails off, a wave of nausea overwhelming him.  
  
“I don’t care what dirty little secrets you’re hiding. If this is about me, I deserve to see it. Have you been following me, Potter? Did you plan this all along?”  
  
“I didn’t plan anything, for fuck’s sake Malfoy.” Harry’s hands tremble and he tries to clear his head which has begun to ache again. “This means nothing to me.”  
  
“Then look at the damn memories!” Malfoy spits out his words. “You have a pensieve?”  
  
“Yes.” Harry grabs the phial back from Malfoy and their hands brush together just for a moment, the touch sending a flash of heat through Harry’s body.  
  
Harry tips the contents of the glass phial into the pensieve, ignoring Malfoy’s proximity as best he can. He tips himself forward with Malfoy next to him and lands on his feet in a room. He watches himself take a seat opposite Pansy Parkinson of all people. His eyes are red-rimmed eyes and dark stubble brings shadows to his chin.  
  
He pushes aside a wave of panic and listens.  


 

* * *

  
  
“You’re here because you want to have your memories erased.” Pansy arranges her notes briskly, reading them over the top of her glasses. “Correct?”  
  
“Correct,” Harry replies. “If Malfoy wants to erase me, well…two can play at that game.” He rubs his forehead. “He did go through the procedure, didn’t he? Obliviate, I mean.”  
  
“I can’t talk about other clients due to client confidentiality.” Pansy makes a couple of notes, then coughs delicately. “But, yes. He did. Off the record.”  
  
“Off the record, of course.” Harry drums his fingers on the table. “What next?”  
  
“Next you tell me everything that you disliked about Draco. We need to be certain you are fit for the procedure. If there’s any possibility that you might get back together, we won’t be able to proceed. We won’t be able to run the procedure twice and we wouldn’t want you ending up here again.”  
  
Harry glares at Pansy. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Besides, how can there be any  _possibility_  if Malfoy thinks the last time he saw me was during Hogwarts?”  
  
Pansy lets out a peel of laughter. “Of course, you’re quite right. Silly of me.”  
  
Harry grits his teeth. “So I just…start talking?”  
  
“Yes.” Pansy waves her hand and settles back. “Please do.”  
  
“We were together before he got married. Did he tell you that?” Harry waits for a reply, but Pansy simply nods and urges him to continue. “I thought maybe he might choose me over someone he’d never even  _met_  before, but no. He had to get married and try to produce an heir, which was of course an absolute disaster.”  
  
“Yes, it really was.” Pansy winces. “I’m sorry. Do go on.”  
  
“He’s selfish. A total brat, half the time. Like this, getting his memory erased. It’s  _typical_  that he wouldn’t even think about trying to work things out. I said some stupid stuff before he left but so did he. We could have fixed it.” Harry growls with frustration, swallowing back the emotion which threatens to overwhelm him. “I thought he would be strong enough to tell his father about us, but of course he wasn’t. He couldn’t risk a single penny of his inheritance because that meant more to him than me.”  
  
“Lucius Malfoy is not a nice man.” Pansy stops writing. “You do  _remember_  Draco’s father I assume? I’m not sure it had anything to do with his inheritance.”  
  
Harry stops, staring at Pansy. His face twists into a grimace and his eyes fill with tears. When he speaks, his voice is rough and choked. “But it’s too late to find out now, isn’t it?”  
  
The memories swirl suddenly and with a wrench, Harry is pulled out of the pensieve.  
  
Draco’s face flickers with hurt and betrayal. “Well at least we know why we’re not together anymore.”  
  
Harry holds up his hand in a gesture of defence. “I still don’t understand what’s going on. I wouldn’t have said that about you, not without good reason.”  
  
“You assumed the only thing I could possibly care about was my  _inheritance_?” Draco’s eyes flash and his voice rises with fury. “Do you know I came out my father last year? Do you know I risked  _everything_  to live my life the way I want to live it? Did it ever occur to you that no matter how much of a bastard he can be, I still want my father to be proud of me?”  
  
“I don’t know anything about your relationship with your father, or at least nothing I remember.” Harry clenches his hands together tightly.  
  
“But you did once. You and I both know those memories are the real thing.” Draco’s lips curl into a sneer, hot spots of pink appearing on his cheeks. “I’m a selfish brat according to you. A selfish brat who cares about nothing but money. I must have been one big fucking disappointment to you, Potter. I bet you just loved making me feel worthless. Made you feel better about yourself, I bet.”  
  
“That’s not true, I wouldn’t have…” Harry trails off because he doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t know  _anything_  anymore.  
  
“I’ve seen enough.” Draco turns on his heel, his voice cold and furious. “If that’s what you thought of me, I obviously did the right thing having you erased. Having  _all of it_  erased.” He stops before leaving, his breathing settling and his voice low and small. “I wish I’d never met you. I  _hate_  you.”  
  
Harry wants to fight back, to ask Draco to stay but he can’t bring himself to move. His whole body is numb from the revelation and the last thing he wants is for Draco to stand side by side listening to Harry wax lyrical about his flaws.  
  
The door slams and Harry takes in the pensieve which swirls with silvery strands of memories -  _his_  memories.  
  
Without a second thought, Harry presses his head forward and lets himself fall.  


 

* * *

  
  
“Fancy seeing you here.”  
  
Harry turns and sees Malfoy walking towards him. He rolls his eyes. “I’m not sure why I’m here. Your parents hate me.”  
  
“Mother invited everyone from the Ministry and my guess is you’re here because Kingsley Shacklebolt made you attend.”  
  
“Breaking down barriers between those of us that fought on different sides of the war.” Harry stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said it would be symbolic.”  
  
“If it makes you feel any better I don’t want to be here either.” Malfoy drinks the remainder of his champagne and flicks his wand to levitate his glass back indoors. “I have no desire to see my parents shunned by people like you.”  
  
“I’m not shunning your parents.” Harry glares at Malfoy. “I’m avoiding  _everyone_  in case you hadn’t noticed.”  
  
“I noticed, as did everyone else.” Malfoy’s eyes gleam and he presses his lips into a tight line. “Would it kill you to be civil after everything mother did for you during the war?”  
  
“Are you serious?” Harry lets out a burst of laughter when Malfoy tips his chin defiantly. “Merlin, you  _are_  serious.”  
  
“Of course I am,” Malfoy snaps. “Just get inside and do your job. It’s embarrassing for everyone knowing you’re skulking around outside with the peacocks because being in my home offends you.”  
  
“I’m not offended by being in your home. I don’t like formal events. Any formal events. They could be hosted by Shacklebolt himself and it wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference. Besides, Skeeter’s in there.”  
  
“Of course.” Malfoy looks delighted. “You’re worried she’ll write about your eyes glistening with the ghosts of your past again. I hope she does. That would be  _hilarious_. Perhaps I should tell her you and Granger are out here together, give Weasely a few heart palpitations.”  
  
“You wouldn’t dare.” Harry closes his hand around his wand, sorely tempted to try one of Ginny’s Bat-Bogey Hexes on Malfoy.  
  
“I might.” Malfoy smiles serenely. “But if you come inside I’ll be on my best behaviour.”  
  
“I doubt that.” With a sigh, Harry gestures to the path leading back to the Manor. “Alright then, have it your way.”  
  
Malfoy leads the way, and Harry trudges behind him casting a light Stinging Hex at Malfoy’s arse as they go.  


 

* * *

  
  
“Mother wanted to thank you for attending our event yesterday evening.” Malfoy appears at the door to Harry’s office, clutching a formal envelope stamped with the Malfoy seal. “I thought I would deliver it in person.”  
  
“Thanks.” Harry takes the envelope from Malfoy and arches an eyebrow at him. “And  _why_?”  
  
“Because.” Malfoy reaches for Harry’s papers and flicking through them. “This looks boring.”  
  
“It is.” Harry agrees, gloomily. He watches Malfoy flick through the pages for a moment longer and holds out his hand. “Boring and confidential, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“Fine.” Malfoy hands the papers back and reaches for Harry’s paperweight, toying with it. “I didn’t come all the way down here for nothing, you know.”  
  
“No, you came here to deliver a thank you note from your mum.” Harry waves it in Malfoy’s direction. “Which you’ve now successfully accomplished.”  
  
“Where does all the interesting stuff happen?” Malfoy ignores Harry. “To think, I wanted to be part of this once.”  
  
“If by  _interesting stuff_  you mean field work, it tends not to take place in the Ministry thankfully.” Harry taps his pencil on the table and hopes Malfoy might take the hint.  
  
“All sorts of exotic locations, I’ll bet.”  
  
“Slough,” Harry corrects. “Slough and Leeds. I also spent a night or two in Glasgow. That was nice.”  
  
“Sounds wonderful.” Malfoy gets to his feet. “I think you should show me around the place.”  
  
“ _Why_?” Harry asks, for the second time that day.  
  
“Because it’s the polite thing to do.”  
  
“Because you’re bloody nosy more like.” Harry gets to his feet and nudges Malfoy out of the door. “Come on, then. But I’m not showing you anything confidential.”  
  
“You’ve made your point, Potter. It’s all very top secret and impressive.”  
  
Harry blinks. “I’m not trying to impress you.”  
  
“Good,” Malfoy replies. “Because you haven’t.”  
  
With a small growl of frustration, Harry counts to ten before leading Malfoy out of the office and into the heart of the Ministry.  


 

* * *

  
  
The floor of the Ministry drops out beneath Harry’s feet and gives way to a large Quidditch pitch. Harry looks down at the gloves on his hands and the leather boots he wears to fly and takes in the vast crowd. The air hums with excitement and he can hear his name chanted over and over from the stands.  
  
“Good game, Harry.” Oliver Wood claps Harry on the shoulder and shakes his hand firmly. “I thought we were going to lose for a moment. I know this is just a charity match, but still.” He shudders as if the thought of losing makes him feel ill. “If you ever fancy trying out, I reckon there would be a place for you on the Reserves. Our Seeker suffered a run in with a particularly aggressive Puking Pastille. It’s a sorry state of affairs.”  
  
“Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with the Ministry for the time being. Send your Seeker my best.”  
  
“Will do.” Oliver gives Harry a salute, and wanders off into the crowd talking animatedly to one of the team managers about the tactical use of a Wronski Feint.  
  
“I would say congratulations, but I had a wager on the other side.”  
  
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Harry straightens after tightening his boot lace, finding himself face to face with Malfoy.  
  
“I thought Krum was going to make an appearance. In which case I have no doubt he would have beaten you.”  
  
“I’m sure he would.” Harry takes in Malfoy’s attire. He’s impeccable as always, with smart wool trousers and highly polished shoes, and a fitted shirt buttoned almost to the collar. Despite his formal wear, Malfoy’s green scarf knotted around his neck and the excited flush in his cheeks gives his enthusiasm away. “You enjoyed the game, despite hoping I’d fall on my arse?”  
  
“Well, you can’t have everything I suppose.” Malfoy’s lips tug into a smile and he peers curiously behind Harry. “I expect you’re going to celebrate with Wood?”  
  
“Not really. I think he’s otherwise occupied.” Harry smiles at the sight of Oliver sketching out a small Quidditch pitch on a piece of parchment and gesturing enthusiastically. “I’ll probably just go home.”  
  
Malfoy sighs. “If you insist, I suppose I could make time for a quick celebratory drink.”  
  
“I wasn’t insisting on anything.” Malfoy is momentarily deflated and Harry clears his throat. “Although I suppose a drink wouldn’t hurt.”  
  
“Then it’s settled.” Malfoy takes Harry’s arm and the touch sends an unexpected spark of pleasure through his body. “I’ll Apparate us.”  
  
Before Harry can reply, the memories swirl around him and with the familiar tug of Apparition, the Quidditch pitch fades into the distance.  


 

* * *

  
  
“I think you’re drunk.” Malfoy narrows his eyes at Harry and pushes his pint to one side. “In fact, I’m certain of it.”  
  
“I’ve had two pints. I’m pissed because I said that grey looks good on you?”  
  
Malfoy shakes his head. “You’re pissed because you’re flirting with me.”  
  
Harry nearly spits out a mouthful of his beer. “I’m  _flirting_?”  
  
“I don’t know what else you’d call it.” Malfoy sips his wine and winks at Harry. “I don’t mind as long as you’re not drunk.”  
  
“I’m not-” Harry pauses and tips his head to the side. “You don’t mind?”  
  
“Not in the slightest.” Malfoy leans back on his seat and stretches his arms along the back of it, his legs knocking against Harry’s under the table. “Although I do think you need some practice. You’re not very good at it.”  
  
Harry leans forward and dips his voice, giving Malfoy a loaded stare. “Trust me, Malfoy. When I’m flirting with you, you’ll know about it. And I’m  _very_  good at it.”  
  
He sits back with satisfaction and grins as a light flush rises from Malfoy’s neck and settles on his cheeks, thinking he could get used to shutting Malfoy up like that on a far more regular basis.  


 

* * *

  
  
The rain begins to fall almost as soon as they leave the pub, and with a muttered curse Harry tugs Malfoy under a large oak which stands in the shadows opposite the pub.  
  
“For shelter.”  
  
“We’re wizards, you idiot.” Malfoy rolls his eyes and pulls out his wand. “We don’t need to cower under a tree whenever it starts to rain.”  
  
“Perhaps not.” Harry stills Malfoy’s hand before he can cast a spell and steps closer, pressing Malfoy against the bark. “But don’t you think it’s more fun this way?”  
  
“Maybe.” Malfoy’s voice falters and he narrows his eyes at Harry. “ _Now_  you’re flirting.”  
  
“Ten points to Slytherin,  _Draco_.” Harry brushes his lips along the curve of Malfoy’s neck and breathes in the scent of his cologne. He slides his hands around Malfoy’s waist and pulls him close, nipping at the skin on his neck and then brushing his lips against Malfoy’s ear. “And?”  
  
“And you’re very good at it.” Malfoy groans and then fists his hand in Harry’s hair, pulling him into a fierce kiss which Harry responds to eagerly.  
  
When they break apart, Harry brushes his thumb over Malfoy’s lip and drinks in the sight of him. “You look good like this.”  
  
“In grey?” Malfoy arches an eyebrow.  
  
“Nope. Well-kissed.”  
  
When Draco begins to protest, Harry kisses him again just for good measure.  


 

* * *

  
  
“I’m not in love with you.” Draco’s tone insinuates the very idea is ridiculous. He buckles his belt after pulling up his trousers and brushes close to Harry. “You do know that?”  
  
“I should. You tell me often enough.” Draco’s breath carries the faint scent of peppermint. Harry puts some distance between them in an attempt to clear his muddled thoughts and reaches for his clothes. “I get the message, you know. No need to batter me over the head with it as soon as we’ve had sex.”  
  
“Perhaps,” Draco replies and when Harry faces him he’s relieved to find Draco fully-dressed. “But you had that look about you.”  
  
“That look?” Harry’s eyebrow arches and his lips twitch into a smile. “Merlin forbid. Perhaps I was just squinting without my glasses?”  
  
“Fuck you, Potter.” Draco snorts. “It was definitely a  _look_. We’re just shagging. I’m supposed to be getting married soon. To a woman, if you hadn’t noticed.”  
  
“I remember, funnily enough. How’s the search going, by the way? I don’t really get the impression you’re all that keen on women.”  
  
“Shut up.” Draco combs his hair into its usual impeccable style and turns his back on Harry. “This has to end. I’m getting married and producing a Malfoy heir, and I’m definitely  _not_  going to be able to do that with you.”  
  
“I suppose not.” Harry sighs, and grabs his things. “You’re right, though. This does have to end. I’m not going to be your bit on the side while you cheat on your wife. If you want to do that, you’ll have to find someone else. I’m sure Lucius and Narcissa will find a suitable candidate soon enough and I’m not prepared to wait around for that to happen.”  
  
“Then leave, if you’re so sure.” Draco gives Harry the kind of look that he can never resist. “I know you’ll be back.”  
  
Harry presses his lips into a firm line and shakes his head, gathering his things. His heart floods with pain but he forces himself to meet Draco’s gaze head on. When he speaks, his voice is strong and clear. “No, Malfoy. I won’t.”  
  
He leaves the room before Draco can reply.  


 

* * *

  
  
The room above the Leaky Cauldron disappears and Harry finds himself back in his flat, studying a copy of the  _Prophet_.  
  
 _Malfoy Heir Divorces_  
  
“Irreconcilable differences.” Harry snorts and closes the paper, rubbing his forehead. “Sounds about right.”  
  
The Floo sparks and Harry looks up to see Draco standing sheepishly in his living room. His hair is askew and his clothes are rumpled. Harry raises his eyebrow at Draco’s unkempt appearance and gestures to the paper.  
  
“I’ve seen the news. I suppose you’re out and proud now?”  
  
“Not exactly.” Draco winces and pulls off his cloak, hanging it up as if he’s been invited to stay. “There’s still father to consider and he’s angry enough about the divorce. It’s not the Malfoy way, apparently.”  
  
“I wasn’t aware you cared all that much about doing things the  _Malfoy way_.” Harry flicks his wand and sends Draco’s cloak back to him. “Or at least that’s what you always used to say.”  
  
“I care what my parents think.” Draco wrinkles his nose and collapses onto the sofa. “Merlin, it’s been a terrible week.”  
  
“Has it?” Harry keeps his voice level. “Malfoy, why are you here? We haven’t spoken for over a year and I don’t appreciate you barging in now just because your love life’s gone to shit.”  
  
Draco’s face flicker’s with surprise. “I thought you’d be pleased.”  
  
Harry grits his teeth and resists the urge to throttle Malfoy. “I would have been  _pleased_  if you had ignored your prat of a father and never got married. I would have been  _pleased_  if you had shown me a bit of respect when you had the chance.”  
  
“I knew you were in love with me, Potter.” Draco’s lips quirk into a smile.  
  
“Perhaps I was.” Draco looks triumphant and Harry struggles to keep his voice steady so his anger doesn’t betray him. “But if I  _was_  I’m certainly not anymore. Get out, Malfoy.”  
  
“But…”  
  
“I said, get out.” Harry’s voice takes on a cool, furious tone.  
  
The Floo whooshes and when Harry looks up again, Draco has gone.  


 

* * *

  
  
“I never wanted to get married, you know.” Draco slips into the empty seat next to Harry in the Leaky Cauldron. “You should know that I never wanted that. If it hadn’t been for mother and father none of this would have happened.”  
  
“Don’t you think you should start taking responsibility for your own actions? Stand up to your parents for once. Even if I didn’t deserve that, your wife certainly did.”  
  
“You always have to be so sanctimonious.” Draco’s lips pinch into a tight line. “Perfect Potter always trying to save the world. Don’t tell me you don’t make mistakes.”  
  
Harry laughs, bitterly. “I make mistakes alright. Mistakes I’ll regret for the rest of my life. Don’t presume you know me because we had a few nights together.”  
  
The silence hangs between them and Draco glares at his drink. “It was more than a few nights together and you know it.”  
  
“Perhaps.” Harry shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter anymore.”  
  
Draco scowls and presses his face close to Harry’s, his words coming out in a violent hiss. “You were quite happy to fuck me even though you knew my plans. You don’t exactly have the moral high ground.”  
  
“I suppose I thought your plans might change,” Harry responds, tightly. “After all the  _fucking_.”  
  
“I can’t believe I wasted my time on you.” Draco slams down his drink and it sloshes over the side of his glass. “I thought if I did the right thing for once you might understand  _why_.”  
  
“You’re trying to say you divorced your wife for  _me_?” Harry refuses to let his feelings get the better of him. “Perhaps you should have spoken to me first, before assuming I’d be waiting for you with open arms. You’re a spoiled brat. You can’t just play with someone’s emotions and expect them to fall back into your arms. It’s not the way it works.”  
  
“Then how does it work?”  
  
Harry stands and grabs his coat to indicate the conversation is over. “Give me time. No promises, Malfoy. I don’t particularly like you much at the minute, let alone anything else.”  
  
“It didn’t seem to matter too much before,” Draco mutters.  
  
“Maybe not. But it matters now.” Harry shakes his head at Draco, and without a backwards glance he leaves the pub and lets the cool night air wash over him.  
  
He tips his head up to look at the stars as in the distance. Waves crash and the first drops of rain begin to fall.  


 

* * *

  
  
“It’s Christmas Eve.” Harry opens the door to find Malfoy on his doorstep, his wool coat peppered with tiny flakes of snow.  
  
“Don’t you think I know that, Potter?” Draco pushes his way inside, his face flushed with anger. “I need to talk to you.”  
  
“Please, do come in.” Harry rolls his eyes and closes the door behind him. He folds his arms and faces Draco. “Well? I’m listening.”  
  
“Do you know I’ve had nightmares almost every night since the war?” Draco’s words come out in a rush.  
  
“No I didn’t, and I don’t particularly care. Calm down, Malfoy. You look like someone’s just beaten you to the Snitch.”  
  
Draco growls low in his throat and advances towards Harry, gripping his jumper and hauling him close. “ _You_  did this to me. You and your stupid scar and ridiculous hero complex. You made me feel like this and I want it to stop, right now.”  
  
“I made you feel like  _what_?” Harry’s breathing hitches at Draco’s proximity and it takes all of his willpower to stop himself pulling Malfoy into his arms and kissing him as hard as he can.  
  
“Like I’m never going to forget you. Like nobody else will ever be good enough. Like  _I’ll_  never be good enough.”  
  
“I don’t see what that has to do with your nightmares.”  
  
“Because I never once – not  _once_  dreamed about the Manor when I was with you. Because apparently I’m so fucking deluded that I somehow think  _your_  going to keep me safe.” Draco lets out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Go on, then Potter. Have a good old laugh. Tell me how disappointed you are in me and why I’m never going to be enough for you. Let’s hear it.”  
  
Harry slips his hands around Malfoy’s waist and stares deep into his eyes, trying to memorise every bit of his emotion. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”  
  
Draco deflates and presses close to Harry. “You should be. It’s pathetic.”  
  
“Not really.” Harry slides a hand into Draco’s hair, his heartbeat quickening. “It’s pretty much the first time you’ve actually said anything  _real_.”  
  
“Then what do we do now?” Draco holds his breath and Harry thinks quickly.  
  
“Come with me.” He tugs Draco’s hand and pulls him outside, grabbing his wand and locking the door behind him.  
  
“You’re barmy, Potter. Totally insane. I don’t know why I’m even here, I should be getting mother’s presents ready for tomorrow and-”  
  
Harry pulls Draco into his arms and Apparates them, kissing him soundly when they land. “Shut up, Malfoy.”  
  
Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and kisses him back, almost knocking Harry off his feet. When he pulls back his cheeks are tinged with a light pink flush. “Where the fuck are we?”  
  
“Somewhere I come every Christmas.” Harry pulls Draco with him to a lake, covered with thick ice. He slips along the surface and lies down in the centre until he can see the stars. “Isn’t it brilliant?”  
  
“It’s cold, that’s what it is.” Draco settles next to Harry nevertheless and tips his head to the side to contemplate Harry. “What are we looking at anyway?”  
  
Harry captures Draco’s lips in another kiss, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Giddy excitement makes him laugh and he points to the sky, nestling close to Draco.  
  
“We’re looking at the stars.”  


 

* * *

  
  
The lake disappears and Harry finds himself standing outside the white house on the top of the cliff at Land’s End.  
  
“ _This_  is where you bring me for my birthday?” Draco looks uncertain and holds Harry’s hand. “It’s Muggle.”  
  
“Disgustingly so,” Harry agrees, cheerfully. “Don’t you think it’s brilliant?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Draco presses close to Harry. “It’s a bit like being at the end of the world.”  
  
“I suppose it is, a bit.” Harry kisses Draco’s cheek. “Land’s End, they call it.”  
  
“Very apt.” Draco smiles at Harry. “Well, if you say it’s worth the visit.”  
  
“I’d say it’s definitely worth a visit.” Harry ushers Draco inside and checks them in at the reception desk. He waves the key in Draco’s direction and gestures to the stairs. “We’re in the Sea View Room. Second on the left.”  
  
They make their way upstairs and Harry opens the door for Draco, holding his breath. “Well?”  
  
“There’s champagne.” Draco’s voice takes on a light, teasing tone and he arches his eyebrow at Harry. “You know you don’t have to get me drunk, Potter. Not anymore.”  
  
“I didn’t get you drunk the first time.” Harry huffs and opens the champagne with a pop and a fizz, laughing when it spills over the neck and onto his hand. “Where the fuck are the glasses?”  
  
“Who needs glasses?” Draco smirks and takes the champagne from Harry, taking a swig. “It’s good stuff. Which is surprising, to say the least.”  
  
“I went for the most expensive.” Harry takes the bottle back to have a swig of his own before placing it down on the side. “Have you seen the view?”  
  
“I have. I like it.” Draco gives Harry a look which makes his whole body heat, and licks his lips. “I think I’d prefer it a little less…covered.”  
  
“All in good time.” Harry wraps his arms around Draco and propels them to the window. “ _This_  view.”  
  
Draco opens the window and leans out. “You can hear the sea.”  
  
“You certainly can.”  
  
“Have you ever wanted to travel?” Draco’s cheeks flush with excitement. “Think of all the things we could see.”  
  
“I’ve always wanted to see a bit of the world.” A glum feeling settles over Harry and he shakes it off, determined not to be miserable on Draco’s birthday. “I can’t leave Shacklebolt in the lurch though.”  
  
“No.” Draco frowns. “I don’t suppose you can.” He brightens and points to the bedside table. “Chocolates  _and_  champagne?”  
  
“I’m trying to seduce you.” Harry gives Draco what he hopes is a very wicked look. “Is it working?”  
  
“Somewhat,” Draco acknowledges with a small smile.  
  
“Good.” Harry takes another swig of the champagne and then strips off, bouncing on the bed and reaching for Draco. “I’ve got another birthday present for you.”  
  
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Potter. Sex isn’t a birthday present, we do that all the time. You’re so cheap.”  
  
“I am not.” Harry tugs Draco close to him when he settles on the bed. “This is a different kind of sex…”  
  
“Different how?” Draco’s confident tone falters when Harry kisses the spot on Draco’s neck he knows never fails to get a response.  
  
“Because tonight I’ll do  _anything_  you want.”  
  
“Anything?” Draco pulls back and watches Harry with dark eyes.  
  
“Anything,” Harry confirms. “All those kinky fantasies you’ve never shared? Now’s the time to share them.”  
  
“If I’d have known this was on the cards I might have brought my handcuffs.” Draco smirks and Harry reaches for his wand, transfiguring the notepad on the table into a pair of handcuffs, waving them in Draco’s direction.  
  
“Like these?”  
  
“ _Fuck._ ” Draco groans and nods, flicking his tongue over his lips. “ _Just_  like those.” He moves over Harry and pushes his hands back over his head, closing the cuffs around his wrists and securing him to the bedpost. “There was a time you wouldn’t have trusted me with this.”  
  
“True.” Harry tests the restraints. “But there was also a time when I thought you were an obnoxious little snot who wanted to kill me.”  
  
“I was and I did.” Draco strips out of his clothes before joining Harry on the bed again. “Luckily for you I don’t want to kill you anymore.”  
  
“Lucky indeed.” Harry lets his eyes rake over Draco and his breath hitches when Draco’s cool fingers slide over his stomach. “What do you have planned?”  
  
“I’m going to make you  _beg_.” Draco’s eyes gleam and he flicks his wand to  _Accio_  the lubricant, slicking his fingers. “That’s what I have planned.”  
  
“Merlin.” Harry watches Draco slick his fingers and sucks in a sharp breath when Draco squeezes cool lubricant in the crease of his arse. “You’re going the right away about it.”  
  
“I know,” Draco hums with satisfaction and brushes his lips to Harry’s ear as he rubs his fingers over his hole. “Shameless slut that you are.”  
  
“ _Fuck_ , yes.” Harry’s cheeks heat but he really doesn’t care when Draco touches him like that. He presses back against Draco’s fingers and moans with frustration when his handcuffs still his attempts to move further into Draco’s teasing touch. He arches up as Draco kisses a path down his chest, catching each of Harry’s nipples between his teeth and tugging lightly just the way Harry likes.  
  
“You’re shameless, Potter. Gorgeous, and shameless.”  
  
“But I’m still not begging.” Harry’s voice comes out rough-edged and Draco presses his fingers more firmly against Harry’s hole in response, running slick fingers lightly over Harry’s cock.  
  
“Not yet. But you will be.”  
  
“We’ll see.” Harry doesn’t fancy his chances, but he loves the push and pull between them and he knows Draco does too. It’s no surprise to him that Draco wants  _this_  for his birthday and Harry’s more than happy to give it to him. Every moment like this fills his body with heat and makes his cock ache for release.  
  
Harry closes his eyes and savours every slide of Draco’s tongue over his skin. Hot breath washes over his cock and he groans, arching up as Draco flicks his tongue over the slit and then moves down the shaft, teasing Harry with his touch as he continues to keep that maddening pressure of his fingers against Harry’s hole, never quite pushing inside.  
  
By the time Draco reaches the top of Harry’s thigh and circles his tongue close to where his fingers press against Harry’s skin, Harry is quite happy to beg. He squirms on the sheets, Draco’s hands and tongue on his skin driving him mad.  
  
“ _Please_.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Harry can tell from Draco’s tone that he’s just as excited as Harry and the thought of Draco’s long, slim prick makes Harry moan desperately.  
  
“ _Inside_  me. Please. Push your fingers  _inside_  me. Stroke my cock. Suck me. Anything, just please stop teasing.”  
  
“I thought it was my birthday, not yours,” Draco teases. Despite his words he pushes two slick fingers into Harry, fucking him slowly with them. “You’re beautiful when you beg me to fuck you.”  
  
“You say the sweetest things.” Harry laughs, breathlessly. He groans when Draco crooks his fingers inside him. When Draco settles over his cock and takes him into his mouth, Harry cries out and arches almost completely off the bed.  
  
“Look at me.” Draco slides off Harry’s cock after bringing him almost to the brink of orgasm, and Harry groans with frustration.  
  
“I’m looking. Bloody Slytherin.” Harry forces out the words, his breathing rough and ragged. He meets Draco’s eyes, and watches as Draco slicks his cock slowly. “I know what you’re doing. When did you get to be such a tease, Malfoy?”  
  
Draco settles over Harry positioning himself and pressing against Harry’s hole and pointedly ignores Harry’s question.  
  
“Ask me to fuck you. Say  _please_.”  
  
“ _Please_  fuck me with your big cock.” Harry grins at Draco and yelps when Draco flicks his wand to place a cock-ring at the base of Harry’s aching prick. “You  _git_.”  
  
“That’s better.” Draco smirks and then captures Harry’s lips in a fierce kiss, thrusting into him hard and making Harry cry out. He pushes Harry’s leg back against his chest and begins to fuck him with rough, deep strokes until Harry can’t stand anymore.  
  
“I’m sorry…let me come…fuck, Draco.”  
  
“All in good time.” Draco’s words come out in a breathy rush and he places a line of kisses along Harry’s neck, his breathing coming in rough pants. Their bodies move together, slick with perspiration until Draco thrusts one final time and climaxes with a deep groan of pleasure.  
  
“Draco,  _please_.” The sight of Draco coming and the sensation of Draco pushing inside him repeatedly fills Harry’s senses and he clutches at Draco when he moves back, slipping out of Harry carefully. “Don’t you dare leave me like this.”  
  
“As you asked so nicely.” Draco catches his breath before releasing the cock ring and taking Harry back into his mouth. The combination of Draco’s warm mouth and the memories of Draco fucking him still fresh in his mind bring Harry over the edge. He bucks up into Draco’s mouth, shouting his name and collapsing back onto the bed when he’s finally sated.  
  
“Happy birthday,” Harry mumbles, as Draco undoes the handcuffs and he finally gets to flex his hands. He pulls Draco close and nuzzles his neck, murmuring against Draco’s warm skin. “I love you.”  
  
Draco stills and for a moment Harry’s heart jumps and he holds his breath.  
  
The sea crashes outside, and the wind causes the window frame to bang lightly against the wall.  
  
“You too, Potter.” The tension leaves Draco’s body and Harry breathes out as Draco settles in his arms, brushing his lips against his still-damp skin. “I…love you too.”  


 

* * *

  
  
Harry’s back at the lake and the moon shines on the slick ice. He can see something green and silver right in the middle and he edges forward when he recognises Draco’s scarf. Harry slides along the ice towards it, plucking it from the surface of the lake and gathering it in his hands. As he presses the scarf to his face and breathes in Draco’s scent, the ice around him begins to crack.  
  
The cracks snake out from underneath Harry’s feet and a gaping hole appears in the ice, plunging Harry into the freezing water. He tries to breathe but the ice melds together once more and he pushes his hands against it in a futile attempt to get free.  
  
With a desperate gasp, Harry wills himself somewhere else until he can breathe clean, warm summer air. He’s on his broom and the sunlight shines on Draco who moves above him, turning this way and that and holding a Snitch aloft.  
  
The sky breaks away into nothing and Harry lands with a thud in a wooden restaurant seat with Draco sitting opposite. Their eyes meet over the food and they smile at one another without saying a word. Draco holds out his spoon with a delicious mouthful of chocolate dessert, and Harry sucks it into his mouth savouring the rich flavour. Draco’s eyes darken and Harry’s cheeks heat. He reaches across the table and takes Draco’s hand.  
  
For a brief moment, Harry turns away from Draco to study the other diners. They all feed each other a mouthful of dessert simultaneously. There’s Sirius and Remus, his parents and Alastor Moody with an irritated Severus Snape of all people. Harry swallows and turns back to Draco who seems oblivious to the dining dead.  
  
“Can I have a picture, Harry?” An excited, familiar voice makes Harry jump. He looks up just in time to see Colin Creevey snap his photograph.  
  
“No photographs. I told him, no  _photographs_. My father can never find out about this.”  
  
Draco’s panic fades into the background. Harry blinks, and opens his eyes to Parkinson who curses as she trains her wand on Harry.  
  
“Shit. You shouldn’t be able to resist this.” Parkinson’s brow furrows and Harry reaches out, trying to speak.  
  
“Stop!” He cries out but it’s too late and Parkinson’s wand presses against his skull with a swift  _Obliviate_.  
  
Pansy swims out of focus, and Harry finds himself in the sky, his broom angled upwards.  
  
“Catch me if you can, Potter!” Draco swoops into Harry’s eye line, and he sucks in a breath reaching for Draco’s hand. Draco laughs and slips away from Harry, moving higher into the sky.  
  
They dip and turn together, the houses and trees blurring beneath them as they both increase their speed with Draco always just out of Harry’s reach. When Draco moves higher, Harry pulls his broom into a sharp upright angle and follows Draco into the clouds. Harry’s vision blurs as he pushes higher with frightening speed. When his vision finally clears Draco isn’t anywhere to be seen and all that remains is the sound of his laughter on the wind.  
  
Hot tears streak down Harry’s cheeks and he fights for breath, taking in huge gulps of air. His broom falls to the ground below and he falls too, twisting through the sky until he lands upright on wet sand in the middle of a familiar beach. The wind gusts through his hair and his heart aches. All he can see is sea, and sky.  
  
“Draco.” He murmurs the name and clutches his hands in his hair, his throat hoarse from crying. “Draco!”  
  
The rain begins to fall, the sea whips into a frenzy and nobody answers Harry’s cries.  


 

* * *

  
  
“Do you realise all we ever do now is fight?” Draco glares at Harry and pulls on his coat. He tightens his scarf around his neck. “I’m sick to death of talking about my father.”  
  
“We have to talk about him.” Harry’s frustration wells within him and he clenches his hands tightly together. “We’re never going to be able to this properly unless you can come out of the bloody closet.”  
  
“It’s easy for you, isn’t it?” Draco’s lips purse. “Everybody loves you, perfect Potter. Nobody gives a damn who you shag because you saved the world. It’s not the same for me, it never has been. I could lose everything if I tell him.”  
  
Exhausted, Harry rakes his hand through his hair. “Has it every occurred to you that you could lose everything if you don’t?”  
  
The colour drains from his face, and Draco smiles at Harry – a bitter, angry smile. “Is this what love is? Emotional blackmail so you can get your own way?”  
  
“No, it’s not that.” Harry growls with frustration and reaches for Draco who flinches back from his touch. “I just want to be with you properly. No more secrets. I’m sick of worrying about someone seeing us, and not being able to take someone to the Ministry events with me.”  
  
“You expect me to lose my only family because you want someone to  _dance_  with?” Draco lets out a sharp laugh and shakes his head. “Well fuck you, Potter.”  
  
“You’re just going to leave?”  
  
“Yes, I’m going to leave.” Draco pulls his coat tightly around his body and yanks open the door.  
  
“I should have known you wouldn’t change. I never should have taken you back when you divorced your wife. It was stupid of me. I should have known we would end up like this!”  
  
Draco’s shoulders tense and he turns his back to Harry, but not before a flicker of hurt crosses Draco’s face.  
  
“Perhaps you should have done.” Draco steps outside and looks back at Harry one final time. “I’m finished with this. I’m finished with you.”  
  
The door slams behind Draco and Harry’s memories flicker and swirl around him. Before the scene can be wrenched from his grasp, Harry picks up the photo of himself playing Quidditch and throws it at the closed door. He watches it shatter and fall to the floor. He shouts after Draco, but the house begins to crumble around him until he’s in Grimmauld Place.  
  
The house whisks Harry off his feet and drops him on the living room sofa with a thump, a note clutched in his hand. Ron and Hermione stand in front of him, worried.  
  
Harry waves the note at them both. “What the hell is this?”  
  
“We weren’t allowed to tell you, Harry…”  
  
“But we thought you needed to know.” Ron’s face is etched with fury. “I can’t believe the ferret did this.”  
  
“Ron!” Hermione glares at Ron and places a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It sounds like a dodgy business to me. Parkinson’s at the head of it, of course.”  
  
“He had me  _erased_.” Harry studies the card and reads the words again, unable to believe what he’s seeing.  
  
 _Please be informed that Draco Malfoy has asked Obliviate Limited to erase all memories of his relationship with Harry Potter. He has provided us with sole access to everything in his home which reminds him of the aforementioned relationship.  
  
As far as Draco Malfoy is concerned, he has not seen Harry Potter since 1998. If you should see Draco please do not tell him any differently.  
  
Warmest regards,  
  
P. Parkinson  
 **Managing Director of Obliviate Limited**_  
  
Ron places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes it gently. “It’s what they do, this place – Obliviate Limited. They take away memories people want removed. So they don’t have to grieve and whatnot.”  
  
“He wanted to forget everything about me.” Harry balls the card up into his fist.  
  
Hermione shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Because it hurt so much, Harry – don’t you see? Not because he doesn’t love you. He did it because he  _does_.”  
  
“He did,” Harry corrects. “Clearly he doesn’t love me anymore as he can’t remember a damn thing about me. Other than the fact he hates me, of course.”  
  
“What are you going to do?” Hermione bites her lip and looks at Ron who shrugs.  
  
“Anything you need, mate. Anything at all.”  
  
“I’m going to go and see Parkinson.” Harry stands, pushing the note into his pocket.  
  
“You wouldn’t…” Hermione trails off, concerned.  
  
Harry tries to organise his jumbled thoughts, no longer sure what he really wants. “I might. If I do, you’re not to tell me. It’s my decision. Agreed?”  
  
Ron and Hermione exchange another glance, and finally Ron sighs and nods. “Agreed.”  


 

* * *

  
  
The memories swirl around him and hot tears slide down Harry’s face as the wand presses against his temple. He reaches his hand to push Parkinson away but he can’t seem to move properly. Grimmauld Place disappears to be replaced with dark, empty corridors. Footsteps echo through the hallway and Harry follows them, catching Draco as he runs past.  
  
“Come with me.” Harry grips onto Draco’s hand tight enough to hurt and Draco flashes him a brilliant, heart-stopping smile.  
  
“I’ll come with you anywhere. Where are we going?”  
  
“To the end of the world.” Harry holds onto Draco tightly as the dark corridors fall away beneath their feet and heavy rain lashes down around them. They run on the beach together while the waves crash on the shore.  
  
“What are we running from?”  
  
“From ourselves. I don’t even know anymore. Just  _run_.” Harry’s legs burn and his heart clenches in his chest. He runs until he can’t breathe anymore, Draco’s hand still tightly in his own. In front of him are the rickety steps to the white house perched on the top of the cliff. He moves quickly upwards until they stand at the front of the building. Harry pushes open the door and keeping a tight hold of Draco he takes them to the room which fills his memories.  
  
“You always bring me back to this place.” Draco looks at the bed disdainfully. “They don’t even have a-”  
  
“-Pillow menu, I know.” The room in the Land’s End hotel begins to crumble around them. Harry pulls Draco into his arms and kisses him fiercely, every hard line of Draco’s body warm underneath his palms. His eyes fill with tears and he pulls back, brushing Draco’s hair from his forehead.  
  
Draco meets Harry’s stare with that fierce, vulnerable look that only Harry is allowed to see. He clutches onto Harry’s hand and murmurs to him, his voice rough. “Is this goodbye?”  
  
“If it is, let’s make it a proper goodbye. Let’s pretend we had one.” Harry kisses Draco again, and presses close to him breathing in his familiar scent.  
  
“I don’t want to leave.” Draco murmurs against Harry’s lips as he gentles the kiss. “I want to stay here forever.”  
  
“Meet me when this is over.  _Remember me_.” Harry speaks desperately as the hotel disappears and the rain falls around them, large droplets soaking his clothes until they cling to his skin. The wind howls around them and the waves crash in the background until Draco begins to flicker and fade.  
  
“How will I know where to find you?” Draco’s voice is thin and his body shivers under Harry’s hands.  
  
Harry captures his lips one last time, tasting rainwater and salty tears and he whispers against Draco’s lips. “Find me at the end of the world.”  
  
As he speaks Draco slips from his grasp and the memories fall away to nothing.  


 

* * *

  
  
“Can I come in?” Harry steps awkwardly through the Floo at Malfoy Manor and finds Draco sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. A package just like the one delivered to Harry sits on the desk, ripped open and pushed hurriedly to one side.  
  
“It looks as though you’re going to anyway,” Draco mutters. His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. “Damn you, Potter. Damn you.”  
  
“It was good, for the most part. Wasn’t it?”  
  
“It was also pretty fucking terrible.” Draco moves from his seat and leans back against the desk. After a long moment, he meets Harry’s eyes. “I don’t want to be there again. In that place. Wherever we were at the end.”  
  
“I said some stupid things.” Harry approaches Draco so he’s close, but not quite close enough to reach for him. “I shouldn’t never have said that stuff to you. I get angry and I say daft, impulsive things sometimes. I didn’t regret my time with you for a single moment. I would have told you, if I had the chance.”  
  
“But I didn’t give you any kind of chance.” Draco runs a hand through his hair, and winces. “I was exactly the way you described me to Pansy. I’ve seen it all too, Potter. I know how much I pushed you at the start, and once I had you I was too much of a coward to give you back anything at all.”  
  
“You didn’t push me.” Harry can’t resist moving closer and he brushes his hand down Draco’s arm. “I was exactly where I wanted to be even when it was bad. I didn’t want you to go. When they erased my memories I tried to stop it.”  
  
“I didn’t.” Draco’s words hit Harry like a punch to the stomach. “It was easier to just let you go.” Draco’s lips curve into a strange half-smile. “It’s  _always_  been easier to let you go. It’s why I pushed you away, so many times.”  
  
“It’s easier?” Numb, Harry drops his hand from Draco’s arm and puts them in his pockets in an attempt to stop himself from reaching out again. “How is it easier?”  
  
“Because if you’re not in my life I won’t feel like  _this_  anymore.”  
  
“I see.” Harry contemplates Draco, and then he pulls a couple of items from his pocket. He resizes them both and puts them on the desk, taking a step back when he’s finished. “The green jumper. The one I was wearing today. I don’t remember buying it and it’s got some kind of fancy label on the inside. I think it came from you. Then there’s the book you found in my shelves. The one on economics. I’m pretty sure that must have been yours.”  
  
“Thank you.” Draco runs his fingers over the jumper and moves back to his seat. “I suppose I’ll see you around.”  
  
“Yes.” Harry steps back into the Floo. “I suppose you will.”  


 

* * *

  
  
That night, Harry wakes to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He gets up and pads downstairs, opening it to see Draco shivering outside.  
  
“Malfoy?”  
  
“I had a bad dream.” Draco steps inside and rubs his hands together for warmth. “Close the door, it’s freezing outside.”  
  
Harry’s heartbeat quickens and he closes the door behind Draco. “You’re here because you had a bad dream?”  
  
“I’m here because every night’s a bad dream.” Draco meets Harry’s eyes. “For the most part.”  
  
“For the most part?” Harry raises his eyebrow.  
  
“Yes.” Draco gives Harry a small smile. “Apparently I’m so fucking deluded that I think you’re going to keep me safe. Don’t laugh at me, Potter.”  
  
The memories of Draco fill Harry’s mind and he pulls Draco close against his body. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”  
  
Draco grips his hand into Harry’s hair and closes the distance between them. He kisses Harry in a way that leaves him with no doubt about Draco’s intentions. When Draco starts to pull at Harry’s shirt he breaks away reluctantly and stills Draco’s hand.  
  
“Wait, there’s something I have to tell you.”  
  
“Can’t it wait?” Draco trails a line of kisses along the curve of Harry’s throat. “I’m trying to rectify those rumours that you haven’t had a decent shag in months.”  
  
“You probably started those rumours in the first place. Besides, it’s important. I handed my notice in to Kingsley this afternoon.”  
  
“You did?” Draco stops his ministrations for a moment and pulls back. “Then we’re going to see the rest of the world?”  
  
“Yes.” Harry pulls Draco back into his arms and ends the conversation with a deep kiss. “I think we are.”  
  
 _~Fin~_

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